Indianapolis Journal, Volume 52, Number 363, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 December 1902 — Page 3

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL. MONDAY, DECE3IBER 29. 1902.

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O o a o o SokM SLATTERNS o o o e 2 bfDixs OreotstStore s I Pre-Inventory Säle I FürsMCoats I O A O o o Genuine Alaska Seal Coats, the very best SE0.00 value, reduced to 250.00 t Golden Brown Otter Coats formerly priced 1175.00, to close at 125.00 o o I o o o o o o e O Beautiful Muffs reduced to o t&3 to tl2.SO o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o oO' o o o o o o Elegant Velvet Coata that were JGO.CO, . now trO.OO Fine Velour Coats, formerly J40.00 and $43.00, are now OSS, :330 About 50 beautiful white knit Shawls that were $2.00 to $3.00, today, to close at half price. Second Floor. o o o e o o G o o -a o ooooeoeieoottcoooeo ooooooo THE THEATERS. To-Dny' Schedule. GRAND.-Vaudeville. 2:13 and 8:15 p. m. PARK. "On the Suwanee River." 2 and S p. m. EMPIRE. Burlesque, 2 and 8 p. m. Some of the performers who are to give the entertainment at the Grand this week, opening with the matinee this afternoon, have Journeyed long distances in order to fill their Indianapolis engagements. The Heras family of acrobats arrived in the city Saturday from San Francisco. They walked down the gang-plank from an Aus tralian steamer but little over ten days ago. and this will he their -t prn ' tnr ir return to America, as they are not booked in the California vaudeville houses umu laicr in luv ..c. o .n.st men, three women and a cnild In the fam ily. They are really Italians, but because of the fact that they have performed In Russia more than in any other country. they are always billed as Russians. Katherlne Bloougood is expected to arrive In Indianapolis from the South to-day at noon. Esther Fee Is a newcomer to Indian apolis. She is said to be a very talented young violinist. Others on this week's bill will be Mr. and Mrs. Harry Thorn in a farce. Bellman and Moore, a comedy sketch team. Alf. Holt, a mimic, O Brlen and Buckley, well-known musical comedians and Collins and Hart, a grotesque couple. The bioscope will offer this week the finest set of views ever seen at the theater "A Trip to the Moon," in thirty scenes. .XXX The romance of Flora Campbell and Loru Itfay, the interesting stories of "Postey," Dr. William McClure and Marget, and the transformation of Lachlan Camp bell, will all be vividly pictured once more to-morrow night at English's when J. II. Stoddart begins his short engagement of two nights and a matinee in J. he Bonnie Brier Bush. Mr. Stoddart has an excellent company of players with him this seaEon, among whom is Reuben Fax, a noted character actor, whose versatility is re markable. He was seen in Indianapolis live years ago as evengali in Trilby, and now appearn in the widely different part of the "postey, one of the best characters ever drawn by Ian MacLaren. xxx Stella Mayhew Is still the Aunt Lindy of "On the Suwanee River," which will be the Park's attraction for three days, com mencing with to-day's matinee. Miss Mayhew is not only the best of all "black face actresses on the American stage. but !s capable of doing other stage work of a different sort when she chooses. She played in the principal New York and Chicago vaudeville houses all of last sum mer, after the play had closed its regular tour, singing coon songs in a way that opened the eyes of some people who re membered her only as the buxom planta tion "mammy." She is a very attractive woman when "washed up," and Is indeed one of the most interesting performers in the popular-price houses to-day. xxx There will be two more European acts on the stage at the Empire this week the musical Kleists and Palfrey and Hilton. Occasionally some real vaudeville headliners are to be seen in the burlesque houses, as was the case last week at the Empire. Other features of the present bill will be a series of living pictures and two musical burlesques elaborately staged. The show will be given by the High Rollers Extravaganza company. XXX A great deal of Interest centers in the first New York presentation at Wallack's Theater to-night of the George Ade and Alfred Wathall opera, "The Sultan of Sulu." Manager Savage is known to-have taken much pride in this first stage' work of the popular Western humorist, and is not sparing any expense to give the opera a grand production. The company has been strengthened since its appearance in Indianapolis ana the show itself much Improved. Boston liked the opera, but that does not necessarily mean that New York will take to It. Every seat in the house has been sold and "The Sultan" is sure to have a big first night, whatever the verdict of the critics may be. XXX Miss Alice Fischer, whose tour in the comedy. "Mrs. Jack," has been very suc cessful, will be seen in the play, which is aid tO be WittV and lhnrniiphlv entartain. inr. the week after next at tfnviiaH'a "Mra Kr - w f-j m m A A A Jack" had a run of 100 nights in New York. divided between wanacK s and the Victoria Theater, and scored a substantial hit. XXX Mrs. Fiske is still enjoying remarkable success in "Mary of Magdala" at the Man hattan Theater. New York, and the Heyse drama will be performed for the fiftieth time next Saturday night with every nrom Ise that It will reach a much larger num ber of performances in rsew ork ihan anv other play in which Mrs. Fiske has ever been seen in the metropolis. "Mary of Magdala is said to rar transcend either "Tess of the D'Urbervilles" or. "Becky Sharp" in vital Interest and In magnificence of representation. There is no doubt, in the light or her latest triumph, that Mrs Fiske has established her supremacy among actresses mat speak tingiisn. xxx Amelia Bingham's production of the new Clyde Fitch play. "The Frisky Mrs. John son," is to take place the second week In February. "Mr. Fitch has been at work on this play for me for nearly two years,' Miss Bingham said to a New York news paper interviewer, "and is confident that It will be one of his biggest successes." It certainly ought to be a success If Clyde Fitch actually worked two years on the manuscript. The hustling playwright seems to be quite competent to turn out a nlav while you wait; and to linger over one sin gle, solitary play for two years doesn't ound like Clyde ritch at all. xxx Did you ever hear of Hickory Creek. Ind? Well, the first act of George Ade's "Peggy from Paris" takes place at Hickory Creek, show In all the Hickory Creekers assembled for an "old folks party." The second scene Is placed upon the stage of a Chicago thea ter and unother scene will be as close a reproduction as it 1. possible to rut unon the boards of the finest suite of apartments in the Auditorium Annex. Rehearsals for ta new opera have begun In Chicago.

WHAT WOMEN SHOULD BE

TUB IlKV. LEWIS DROWN PAINTS THE IDEAL IX GLOWING COLOHS. The Dlessed Virgin the Type of True 3Iotherhood In Nobility and Humility In Other Pal pit. At ct. Paul's Knlsconal Church yesterday morning the Rev. Lewis Brown gave hi ideal of true womanhood and motherhood in a forceful sermon. He said: Th thoughts of Christmas center about tho Mother find the Child. The most re markable painting in the world is the Clstine Madonna. It is liKe a religious arm . domestic portraiture. All of the dignity Involved In fhristlnn motherhood is there. and all of the tenderness coupled with . . . a ... a m 1 ä ä T It A Christian cnnanooa accompanies u. Ae opportunity to siuay mat suojeci cum to us upon that great festal day. We recognize the fact that the Madonna is a part of the unwritten religion of every clime and every nation. However men may differ in faith they are at one In practical insight. The fuller they believe humanity to be nobility and worth the more they tmppf tho mnihrr tn rpnrpsent. Nanoleoil was right when he said that what France needed was a new generation 01 mumvrt, and Coleridge pronounced the mother to be in. nniiff mine niive. "But as we kneel before the scene representing the first Christian family we are lmnn.u1 Viv tha traits that the lOVelV Jewish maiden, the Blessed Virgin Mary, depicts. She had the quality .of humility to an intense degree. Are mere any numuic tvnmon in th world to-dav? Is not this avt in its intense nasslon for women's rights, forgetful of women's privileges? An unobtrusive and modest woman neeu now fear that she will go unrecognized. The imiv.noi l-i wt nf man will rise and crown her victor. It is not needful to emphasize her place upon tne piatiorm or m street. Her worth is interior and intrinsic. h ha. tno nuaiitv nf romrelline admira tion, and man she shall have as a willing vassal if she be inherently nerseu as uüu meant her to be. A NOBLE WOMAN. "A great poet said once of a noble wom an, 'She lifts her hands and calls across the tumult and the striving ceases.' Ave need Just such a type of symmetry still. The tumult of the world will stretch into unending peace if the woman understands herself and comprehends her heaven born duty: if she. puts her trust in uod ana sneak In His name. "The characteristic ot cneeriuiness uominated this earlv mother. Cheerfulness is the fifth gospel. It Is the last best gut from woman to man. A cneerrui woman is the kingdom of God In miniature. She keeps a hopeful aspect foremost. She brings every true principle in me to us fruition. Cheerfulness is better a thousand times than frtld. It is the poetry or symmetrical womanhood. It is the prose of dally living and dally sacrificing. We can stand anything when cneerruiness chants a noble song. There are no dark SDOts anywhere. Every pavement over which we walk is fretted with gold. The mire of this world disappears and the royal road to heavenly perfection 13 outlined min ute by minute. "What shall we say of patience as in dicating a prerogative of motherhood? Shakspeare writes of patience as on a mon ument, smiling at grief. Motherhood is patience beneath a monument, In a per petual , smile. Childhood, as it comes up for the touch or patience, can oniy be made fit for the higher realms of. womanhood and manhood by the highest agency. Fa tience, thy namev is motherhood and thy office to show day by day that the best work matures slowly but steadily,' securely throughout the ages! As we turn from the mother to the child two conditions, price less in character, appear. In the helpless ness of the child we see the sinner as he approaches God, conscious of his insuffi ciency. From that very condition he rises to heights of divine symmetry, for God makes out of the helpless things of this world models for the heavenly temple which shall give forth his radiance eter nally. There is the trustfulness of the child that wakes into better life both father and mother. The fact that these children turn to what they believe to be a fuller and nobler .life makes that upon which they cling worthy of such suppprt. . "We climb the world s great altar stairs. The darkness at times is dense, but as we put forth the hand to clasp the hand of the eternal, darkness vanishes and the light of the new Jerusalem rests upon our faces. It is our privilege to put both motherhood and childhood as seen at their best in Bethlehem. It finally culminates in that better life that breaks about the throne of God." THE nVIG YEAR." Sermon of Rev. George 31. Smith at Hall-Place 3Iethodlst Church. At the Hall-place M. E. Church last evening the choir repeated several of the fa vorite numbers of the Christmas music. Rev. George M. Smith, the pastor, is begin ning his sixth year with the church, and the congregations were never so large as at present. Last evening Rev. Mr. Smith took for his subject "The Dying Year." lie said in part: "It is not easy to think in the abstract. We naturally seek an embodiment of our kideas. Not only the old Greek? and Ro mans, but modern heathen nations have peopled all creation with gods and heroes. We ourselves are not entirely free from that which Is purely mythical. Our federal government. In its dealings with other na tions, is Impersonated as 'Uncle Earn. tall. gaunt. Indomitable and unconquerable. Our federal government, as the guardian of the rights and liberties of the American people. is impersonated as Columbia, fair, beauti ful, loving and almost divine. "Our Idea of time is embodied in an old man with wrinkled brow and stern-set fea tures and long, flowing beard and white locks hanging over his shoulders. In his hands is a scythe ready for the harvest. "Dr. Stockton, whom Abraham Lincoln ranked as one of the foremost orators of his day, said: 'I dreamed I saw the old year dying. He was lying upon a couch of withered leaves. The naked branches of the trees stretched above him as though they would shield him from the winter storm, The winter wind that swept by moaned like a mother mourning for her slain.' Pur suing the same figure of speech, around the dying patriarch is a multitude of descendants ready to depart with him. There are the four seasons, known by their colors. white, green, yellow and purple. There are twelve months and 3G3 days and about 9,000 hours and more than 5500.000 of minutes and 30.000,000 of seconds. The old year groans and whispers, 'Minister of God, the mid night hour is approaching and I must de part forever. Hear my last message. I came to earth to bring the goodness of God to man. As I passed by some stood with Idle hands, others laughed and others went. while some turned pale and disappeared from the earth. As I passed by some there were who cursed and blackened their souls with guilt and charged the crime to me. Others knew that I came from heaven and gladly received the gift I brought, which was the goodness of God. said the dying year. I nave perrormed my duty as best I could, and these, my children and faithful servants, have performed their duties faithfully and well, but let them speak for themselves, beasons, said the dying year. 'what did you bring to man?' The four seasons answer, 'the goodness of God.' Months,' said the expiring patriarch, 'what did you bring to man?' Twelve months with one accord answered. 'The goodness of God.' 'Days, hours, minutes, seconds, said the dying year with falling breath, 'speak quickly, for we must depart, what did you bring to man?' Three hundred and sixtyfive days. 9,00 hours, 50.000 minutes and 30.000,030 of seconds answer, 'The goodness of God.' " 'Minister of God.' said the dying year, 'when I am gone Uli the whole world that I shall return no more. Tell the sinnt r earnestly and tenderly that he is now a year nearer the sinner's destiny than when I first knew him. Tell the Christian that as I passed by like a moving chariot I bore him a year's Journey nearer the "Father's house of many mansions." Te!l the mourner that the trusting loved ones that I caught up from his side are now safe with God. Finally, tell all who will listen not to weep for me, but to welcome the new year with joy and in that year give to God their hearts' best love and their lives' best service, and soon some happy new year or departing old year will bear them to that brighter world where time is not measured by years and the inhabitants never grow old.' " THE STORY OF LIFE. Dr. II. W. Hello Preaches at Call-fornla-Strert SlethodUt Church. . Most of the Methodist preachers of this city exchanged pulpits yesterday morning.

the Rev. Dr. Kellogg preaching at the Cali

fornia street M. E. Church. He took, lor his subject "The Story of Life," as sug gested by the words of the ninetieth Psalm, "We spend our years as a tale that is told." He said in part: "The oldest song of Israel w dedicated to the theme that most Interests us to-day human life, its brevity and significance. Its imagery is vivid, 'a sleep,' 'grass, 'a flood.' All so transient, but In none is the truth so accurately conveyed as in the word tale.' Life is a story, being told and being written. A part of it has gone into tyre. This contains many Joys and sor rows; experiences sad and delightful; losses and gains; friendships and hatreds. These nave macie up tne cnapters 01 tne pasi. e may not recall In detail everything out 11 is all somewhere and some time it may come into review again. We have been writing constantly, and without interruption. The davs of leisure have cone into it as well as the days of work, the dreams of life as well as the earnest purposes. With all mistakes and wrongs and sins it is told.' Silently and unobserved the work has proceeded. We are to-day near the time for a new chapter, when all the world Is 'turning over a new leaf. We have all heard of the queer custom. "The story is now being written. It is not at all past, as we are at it still. Indeed, this is the solemn fact. We write in the present. That little insignificant speck connecting the two eternities, the past and the future, neither of wnicn we are ever permitted to touch, but are absolutely limited to the present. In this we do our work, in this we write the volumes we are to leave the world. "But one happy truth that must greet us with delight is that these moments are sufficient for marvelous accomplishment If rightly Improved. All that has been done by the great and good has been done In the fleeting moments of life. What brave and mighty deeds are registered! No great man has ever lived who did not set a hign value on time. Indeed, this is a sign of greatness. . Whatever has come to the world that helps man save time or multiply it has ever been and will ever be appreciated by the wise. Inventions and contrivances that do this make the distinction of this with .those sleepy and meaningless old days of the long past. This is the age when we live, through the inventions ot man, -a whole age in a day.' So we have time if we let none of it go to waste for the writing of a wonderful story. "But there is a future as well as a past and a present. We shall continue to write more. What will that ber we dream ot writing something striking and glorious. Some of us hope to write that which will help the world as it reads it. Is it likely that we shall? We have not been writing what we expected when we started out years ago. Then we had the whole story planned. Its characters were chosen and the plot was clear, but we have written scarcely anything we expected. Some un seen hand has directed the pen we thought we were holding and the story Is so different from what we thought. Will the fu ture be as we expect? We are always reckoning with the changeable and unexpected. "It will be finished some time, and it will be a continuous, connected story. There is one element that may enter into it that guarantees this completeness. It is God. He It Is that amid all changes marks our course and makes the. story of life a plot that is complete. This .we cannot understand to-day, but some time we will. Then the disjointed parts will be harmonized. the meaningless part will be illuminated. If we write after the pattern He has given there will be a beautiful story. "God is the connection of the various parts. He constitutes the plot, the past and the present and the future. We do not see the need of this perhaps, but we feel it when we come to adjust our work. The past is gone yet it Is not gone. It follows us. We may try to dismiss it and wish that its wrongs and sins and weaknesses would be forever hidden from sight. But this cannot be. That black record of other days, that has been already in type so long and has been read by the children and youth and has left a black spot on our lives. Oh. that it might be left and out grown! But we do not get rid of the past by wishes or by resolutions. We cannot shake it off like the elk shakes off his old horns and is ready for new ones. Not by a resolution can this change be made There is a way, .however, to be free from the weight of the past. It is through the mercy of God and His forgiving grace. We may go away from it as Israel went from Egypt through sacrifice and mercy. Let us break thus with the past and then a new era will come surely. Let the old year carry away the wrong through the mercy of God and begin free the new year." HEROES AND HERO WORSHIP. The Rev. II. C. 3Ieserves Conception of What True Heroism Means. I The subject of the- Rev. II. C. Meserve's sermon yesterday morning was "Heroes and Hero Worship." His text was I Samuel, xvil, 32: "Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine." He said: "The theme will at once suggest to you the splendid series of essays by Carlyle, in which he reviews the various kinds of heroes that have absorbed the attention of mankind and rehearses their claims to the admiration of the race. But I am to deal with those virtues which, properly trained, will bring to the front the hero when he is required. .1 call your attention to a man like David, a type of the large class of men who live and have lived and have the patience day by day to wait for the supreme moment, which, so far as the world sees, may never come. David furnishes a good example of such a hero as I have in mind. "In all this wild revolutionary work I see the blessed result preparing Itself, not abolition of hero worship, but rather what I would call a whole world of heroes. If hero mean sincere man, why may not every one of us be a hero? David did not need to be told of the humiliation of Israel and his own duty in connection therewith. He felt the hero's blood coursing in his veins as the shout of the Philistine champion rang In his ears and not one of Israel's warriors answered the challenge. The ruddy youth with the frank countenance which the communion with God's nature world always imparts was growing swiftly into the accomplishment of that deed which was to make him the savior of Israel. The boy David in his lonely and peculiar life not only developed his body by manly exercises, he trained his mind and enlarged his soul by vigorous and healthy thoughts and by contemplation of the Infinite in all His glory. The training of a hero is as severe as his work is glorious. The ball and the bicycle, while not absolutely essential to the hero, no doubt play their part in his training, but they in common with the passions and desires must be under the control of a sound mind Inspired by a healthy soul. It often happens that the training of the hero is one of denial as truly as of development. Unless one learns in the humdrum school of life the meaning of sacrifice he is not likely to see the need of such a virtue when the sudden occasion shall arise and demand it. . TRUE HEROISM. "The training we endure to fit ourselves to be heroes in our modern conflict fits ua not to fight our battles with the weapons of another's choosing, but with the implements which years of testing have proved to be the best for our use. We must, each one, be true to himself, to the ideals his soul has caught, to the truth he feels to be for him. And the true man will exchange all the. pomp and pageantry of this world, all its successes, life itself, to be loyal to a. . a tne trutn anu us iueais.v "To Jesus there came, as the hero of the war of humanity against its sins, victory, but such a victory as often comes to men through the splendid sacrifice of the hero. That sacrifice on Calvary challenges the attention of the world Not only has the spirit of divinity settled over the Hero, but the covering of a divine favor has come to those He sought to bless. Only through the divineneis of the suffering could the divine scope and worth of the salvation be attained. Jesus is the world's hero and will be to the end of time. "But I call your attention to a fundamental distinction in all this the hero is the sincere man. Men loved not the physical Jesus, but the spirit of truth of which He was the Incarnation. Had men loved Him merely. He would have left the great world untouched in His coming and going. But men loved His truth. The great world truths of righteousness and love He made plain, and when He passed they but loved the truth they had caught from Him the belter. Personality may be a medium of truth. It is never the end of truth, and truth is after all the one strong thing. His faith. His patient endurance. His humility, love are In Him and through Him common to His heroes. It is mankind's privilege to be like Him, to translate the truth of His life into the language and custom of our day. And when we pass we leave not a world weeping by our tomb and recounting our virtues and so neglectful of its ever present opportunities, but a world marching cn, better because we have lived and stronger because our interpretation of the truth has made men better fitted to solve the problem which the future holds. "My message to you is simply this; that a glorious past is redeemed only by a more glorious present. That the only reverence for a hero's memory consists in loyalty to the divine truth of which He was a part. It la the demand of life that we forever

ring out the old and ring in the new. My solemn conviction Is that the worth of a hero's contribution to humanity lies in the stimulus given to men in the pursuit of eternal truth as represented in the concrete Ideals of righteousness and love." REV. WORTH 31. TIPPY.

Hin Subject. "A 3IesnKe from the Dyliitf Yenr." The evening service at Broadway M. E. Church yesterday was given to the thought of the New Year's season. Mr. Tippj. the pastor, spoke on "A Message from' the Dying Year." He said: "A recently born child is distinctively an animal without even the Intellectual life that characterizes one of the lower animals. There is not a glimmer of intelligence in the little mind. No thought of God, no dream of imortality, no sentiment of affection, no passion for justice disturbs its instinetive life. But If a child grows to full maturity, and if it realizes what God desires for every one, there will come a time when the animal the "flesh" will be in subjection to a splendid spiritual life. The soul will have found out God. Love will flow like a perennial fountain. The life will have been pumped and the noble ethical spirit of Christianity will have become the daily practice of life. 'Somewhere between this life of the Infant and the mature life of a godly man is that great awakening that we call conversion. It i.'i the discovery of God. with the forglvenvss and rest and Joy of that discovery. It is the 'Christian consciousness upon which Schleiermacher based his profound teaching. Sometimes - it comes very early. A lady said to me recently that she felt sure that her child of six had come to this religious awakening. I have met people who never remember not to have rested In God. They awoke to God as they awoke to the consciousness of life. Some people have remarkable and definite conversions. They are fortunate, for they escape the strain and discouragement of those who come to the light more slowly. Some there are who do not know when the light did come. It came like the dawn of a perfect day. There was darkness. Then there Is a touch of gray in the far East, and increasing light. A thrill quivers in tne neart or the night watchers. Then there is a gradual diffusion of light, with paling stars; then rich coloring mounting into the heavens, and driving back the night snaaows; men a rim of tire, a burst of g-old. and the glory of a perfect day. "How this experience comes is not so important. We Methodists have made it too hard for those who had not the awakening at once. We must enlarge our vision and recognize that while It is desirable for It to come quickly that cannot always be possible. It were well if it might come early in life for the normal time to know God is between twelve and twenty-one. In thousands of cases of conversions threefourths of them are at this age. It is the age when the forces of body, mind and spirit are coming to their fullness; how natural then that the sons come into its knowledge of God! "One of the saddest things in life is to see a man who has come to old age without the religious forces ever having awakened. There is only one other sadder sight a life in which all has gone out in dissipation. I think most people who die without God do so from carelessness. Some fight off the religious life. Others deliberately sacrifice it for indulgence In pleasure, or In professional or business careers. Most of us, however, miss the greatest thing in the world by putting it off. We are timid. Why is it that most men would rather go Into a battle than face a congregaiton in the confession of Christ? Yet it is true. "You must not put off the religious awakening any longer my dear friends. What shall it profit us If we gain the whole world and lose one's own lives? What shall a man give in exchange for his life,' said Jesus. The year has rolled around rapidly. It seems almost but a day since we met here a year ago on a similar occasion. It should be a cause of alarm to any of you who have let a whole year slip by without the great decision. It would be a mercy to some of you if God were to permit some great sadness, some deep calamity, to come to you. if it were to awaken you and throw you back upon mm. a mend or mine recently passed through such trouble and it was to him a mighty call from God. He saw how careless he had been. The home altar was lifted up again, and the stern glad service or uoa was taken up with devotion. "The year is dying. Before we meet again it will have passed away forever. Its message to every careless Christian man is a trumpet call to duty. Its message to every unconverted man Is to take up the cross, for the night cometh. and with it the end or earthly opportunity." CITY NEWS NOTES; The Ladies' Auxiliary of the Railway Postal Clerks will receive informally New Year's night, from 7 till 10, at the home of Mrs. E. B. Fosdlck, 2220 North Alabama street. The Father Matthew Military Band pre sented their director, Mr. j. v. Cameron, with a beautiful Japanese vase last even ing. Martin Walpole made the presenta tlon and Mr. Cameron responded with a happy little speech thanking the band. A dispatch from Kokomo, Ind.. says: "Alfred Ellis and Miss Florence Sullivan, both of Indianapolis, were married at the office of Justice Dehaven this morning at 7 o'clock. They disclaim an elopement, saying there were simply here cn a visit and concluded to return home husband and wife." The following officers of Capital City Council No. 17, Knights and Ladies of Columbia, will be installed to-night at Pearson's Hall: Past counselor, August Lambert; counselor, Charles T. Emmons; vice counselor, Mary A. Butterfield; scribe, A. W. Hadley; cashier, James A. Buckner: sergeant, Winnie Hewitt; chaplain. Sadie Harris, master-at-arms, Joseph N. Butter field; first guard, Sophronla Breer; second guard. James McAitee; sentinel. Anna Bol bee: picket. John S. Miller. The members of the lodge will keep open house next Friday night. HOME DRESSMAKING HINTS. By MAY MANTON. Fancy waists with boleros are always be coming to well-proportioned and slender figures and are among the favorites of the season. This smart and attractive model suits many combinations and materials, but, as shown, is of crocus yellow peau de cygne, stitched with black corticelll silk and trimmed with black chlfflon applique and drop ornaments, and combined with an under bodice of dotted cream net. The waist consists of a fitted lining on which the full blouse is arranged at yoke depth, the plaited bolero being attached 431 6 Waist with Plaited Bolero, 32 to 33 bust. to the lower edge of the drop yoke. The sleeves have fitted linings on which the puffs and circular frills arranged to flare freely and fashionably below the elbows, stitched bands and ornaments concealing the seams. The neck is finished with a novel and becoming collar. The quantity of material required for the medium size is 3s; yards 21 inches wide or 13fc yards 44 inches wide with "3lfc yards 21 inches wide or 16 yards 44 Inches wide for under bodice and under-sleevcs. The Pattern 4310 is cut in sizes for a 32, 31 and 36 Inch bust measure. i'ATTEKN COUPON For patterns of garment illustrated above . send 10 cents (coin or tarru.) Cut out illustration and Inclose It In letter. Write you- name and address distinctly and state number and slie wanted. Address Pattern Dept.. The Journal. Indianapolis. Ind. Allow om werkfor return of pattern. Archblihop Chapprlle at San Juan. SAN JUAN. Porto Rico. Dec. 2S.-Arch-blshop Chappelle, apostolic delegate In Cuba and Porto Rico, arrived here this afternoon and the people of the city turned out in large numbers, to receive him. The water front was crowded for hours before the archbishop disembarked. A lafge procession escorted the prelate to the Cathedral, where services were held.

I rw , Pro

REV. J. C. SMITH'S SERMON

HIS THEME, "THE PERPETIITV OF SPIRITUAL LIFE. Each Era, He Snys. Work the Cre ation of fir Demands Continuous Enlargement. Rev. J. Cumming Smith took for his theme yesterday "The Perpetuity of Spiritual Life.", His text was "The end is not yet" Matthew xxiv, 6. He said: "To optimists this planet Is a paradise; to pessimists, it is a plague spot; to Jesus it was a world scarred with evil, but with possi bilities of holiness that justified the tears of the wise men and the throes of the cross. Near the close, of his ministry He drew his twelve together to understand the future a little. He warned them of the dark days ahead. The downfall of Jerusa lem, the effacement of the holy shrines, the ebb of faith, the apathy of believers, the triumphs of Satan He took care to un veil the certain calamities. But when such evils feel like blackwinged flocks upon the earth they were not to conclude that the end was come. They likely would. The temptation in the church has always be.n to prophesy the windup of affairs when the age was sunk In doubt and engrossed in revolutionary billows. Again and again Jn England, Germany and France the j-ears of quaking thrones and flickering faith and social rack and wretchedness were construed as omens of the Almighty's wrath and the precursors of the final judgment. In private life the same temptation prevails upon men to assume that because their particular experience is woeful or cataclysmic therefore the whole world Is breaking to pieces. The end is not yet. OPPOSITE CONDITIONS. "Sometimes the opposite conditions prompt the same conclusion. When affairs have been carried through a long grand process and attain what seems the summit of perfection how easy to be preyed upon by the illusion that the end has come and that perfection can go no farther. But what is the end? What is the purpose of history? Is there any ultimate scheme beyond all the proximate achievements? Most assuredly there is. Apart from the mind of God altogether, even to the man who denies that we have any window through whicn we can peer into the infinite spheres, the history of the organic world is a continuous journey from one thing gained to the next thing to be gained. It never stops. No matter what remote end you see, there is always an end farther on and in God's railroad scheme there is no terminal point. One achievement only paves the way for a larger achievement one reform only beckons to a hundred waiting reforms one discovery simply tempts more wondrous discoveries from the secret lurking-places of nature, and such the world has been. Mere order is not the main or final feature; It is the moral purpose. It is the organic ascent, the accretion and accumulation of our life that make alike the fascination and the mystery of things. To the believer it is not a mere procession of events in a military or reelmental appear ance of accuracy; it is the procession that multiplies itself as It goes along, tne new laws sighted that tempt out other laws into our view as one shy squirrel or bird in the wood that comes chirping out will encourage others out of their hiding, the fold within fold, the wheel within wheel. the faintly descried purpose behind the apprehended purpose and others again in endless nersnectlve this is the glory Of the world. It is a theater of unfolding principles with God on the throne controlling the entire drama. "To Him it is clear there can be no end In the real eense. To finite minds there are ends that seem to be such, but are not. A boy sees his sturdy father fell the giant tree. He thinks to himself as the monster comes crashing down. "This is the end my father had in view.' But it is no sooner prone on the ground than brawny arms are stripping off the branches and sawing It into sections and when so divided it looks to the boy as though the end was come. But there . Is an end farther on. Then comes the roiling of the logs into the stream to be borne down to the distant markets. Thenoe to be converted into some useful contrivance, a pile to be driven in to form a pier, or a graceful pillar in a stately architecture. The boy s conception of DurDose is fragmentary; the father sees afar the objective point and all the nearer stopping points as were steps toward tne ultimate completion. SUPREME VISION. "Not until we climb to this supreme vision can the glory of the world be realized, only grant the fatherhood of God operative In the background and then the fact of purpose or destiny Is relieved of its sullen severeity; the march of events so obedient to rigid law in every realm is not fate, but infinite and irresistible love guiding through the freedom of all cap able of freedom toward a consummation not yet discerned. "Some day the lower world must come to a full stop, just as a clock must run down. Whether it will gradually wither out like the summer blooms, or whether the arm of omnipotence will suddenly arrest it at its zenith by some appalling convulsions of nature it is difficult to forecast. The different vagaries on this subject spring from a misjudged use of texts. The Bible can be twisted to prove whatever you want A pall of midnight darkness may spread over the earth and races expire, and the last man look around to see that he is abso lutely alone, and then He down with a few death gasps and then wild birds flock to the feast; and these soon gradually cease, and the whole world, now so busy with throbbing ambition, be as vacated as our dead moon. Science does not know. Scrip ture rather Intimates a shattering ter mination, a catastrophic and abrupt Collapse of our system. However, even then the end Is not yet. The wreckage of the external framework is one thing; the con tinuity of the profound life that lay wrapped up in it for the time being Is an other thing altogether. The one is ma terialistlc, the other is spiritual. . The material wishes not for its own sake. but as the basis and spawning ground of a development that will pursue still further development when the world melts with fervent heat and the stars fall like untimely figs from a tree shaken by the blast. Lewer things remain lower. The seagull that poises or swoops over the British channel to-day has no increase of power over the seagulls that screamed cen turles ago when Caesar crossed to Britain. The Swiss chamois leaps from cliff to cliff just as its ancestors darted over gorges or scaled the precipices generations ago. There Is no progress except on the same plane. Man alone has the faults of expansion as his distinguishing crown Each era works the creation of new de mands. He is not merely progressive on a level, but on an ascending scale. This Is the birthmark of God on his brow. He has no set bounds. Make a chalk line to inclose his. power and human pride will efface the artificial limit at once. REAL ARGUMENT. "The real and only argument for im mortality that swallows up all the other arguments is the possibility of continuous enlargement. That is a feature of our imperial being. There man stands unique. He has a body that can g-row, but a height of six feet is rather rare and a height of twelve feet seems impossible. The body is endowed with six senses at the outside, but ten senses seem impossible. When you pass or penetrate from the enveloping body to its secret and sovereign inmate you pass from one pale of the universe to its opposite pale; from the material to the spiritual. The royal seal mark of the spirit is illlmltabillty. God cannot possibly annihilate a soul akin to His own x and prophetic of uprise and moral augmentation forever. On this closing Sunday of a year it is wisdom to brood on eternity. Our fathers were more hallowed in reverence before the tremendous magnitude of eternal life than we. Or rather we have so sincerely tried to see the eternal element in the fading, fleeting life that now is that we seldom allow the far vlstaed future to solemnize our imagination and tran qullixe our feverish souls. Hence life grows often so tame and trivial in its vulgar tumult, and even our religious feelings lose their depth and silent reserve. We are too crowded with fretting cares or momentary' enthusiasms to draw Inspiration from the mysterious meanings of things. Amid the dooms and death knells or tne lownesi mings our eyes re6t upon, amid the whirl and surge of hopes all too fugitive as dreams of the pillow, let us be able to climb tne starry heights to look afar and breathe once more the high, calm air of immortality which Is our native ele-

The House Opposite

A HYSTtRY:

CHAPTER IV. UNWILLING WITNESSES. Not waiting for the elevator, we walked up the Intervening flight and rang a bell on our right. The door was opened by a neat-looking maid, who showed some surprise at our early call. "Is Mr. Atkins at home?" inquired the detective. , "Yes, sir, but he is having his breakfast." "Ah. indeed: I am sorry to disturb him," replied Mr. Merritt. "However, it can't be helped. Will you please tell your master that two gentlemen must see him for a few moments on important business." "Yes, sir," and showing us into a gaudily furnished room on our left, the girl van ished. I saw at once that this was not the scene of last night's drama, but a smaller room adjoining the other. My ob servations were almost immediately inter rupted by the entrance of c young man, whose handsome face was at that moment disfigured by a scowl. "Mr. Atkins, I believe' said Mr. Merritt. advancing towards him with his most con ciliatory smile. Mr. Atkins nodded curtly. "It is my painful duty," continued the detective, "to inform you that a very serious accident has occurred in the building." The frown slowly faded from the young man's forehead, giving place to a look of concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. in the most natural manner; "what has happened? Can I do anything?" "Well. Mr. Atkins." replied Mr. Merritt. slowly, "to tell you the truth, a man has been killed, and as we haven't been able to find anyone so far who can Identify him we are going through the formality of asking every one in the building to take a look at the corpse, hoping to. discover somebody who knew the dead man, or, at any rate, can give us some clew to his identity. Will you and Mrs.' Atkins and your two servants, therefore, kindly step downstairs? The body Is lying In Uie unoccupied apartment on the next floor." "Killed!" exclaimed young Atkins. "How dreadful! How did it happen?" But without waiting for an answer he pulled out his watch, which he consulted anxiously. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but I have a most important engagement down town which it is Impossible for me to postpone. My wife Is not up yet, and I really can't wait for her to get ready; but I can go with you now, and take a look at the poor fellow on my way out. In the meantime, Mrs. Atkins will dress as quickly as possible and follow with the two girls as soon as she is ready." "All right," said Mr. Merritt, "that will do nicely. Dr. Fortescue," with a wave of his hand In my direction, "will stay here and escort Mrs. Atkins downstairs. Ladies sometimes are overcome by the sight of death." "Yes, yes;" and my wife is very excitable," rejoined the young man. "I am glad Dr. Fortescue will wait and go down with her if it isn't troubling you too much," he added, turning towards me. "Not at all." I replied, politely, but firmly, with my eyes on Mr. Merritt. "I shall be delighted to return for Mrs. Atkins in a quarter of an hour and escort her downstairs." I watched the detective keenly to see how he would take this disregarding of his or ders. but he only smiled amiably, almost triumphantly, I thought. Mr. Atkins now left us, and I could hear him lashing up stairs several steps at a time. How I longed to pierce the ceiling and hear how he broke the news to his wife, and, above all, to observe how she took it. He returned in a few minutes, and, snatching his hat from the hall table, prepared to follow us. On the way down he inquired with great interest about the accident, but Merritt put him off with evasive replies. When confronted with the dead body, he gazed at it calmly, but with a good deal of curiosity. "Did you know the deceased?" the coroner asked him. The young man shook his head. "Never saw him before." Then, looking at the corpse more closely, he exclaimed: "Why, he is a gentleman; can't you find out who he is?" "We haven't been able to. so far," repiled the coroner. "Ixow did the accident occur?" "He was murdered." The young man started back In horror "Murdered, and in this house how, when?" JPresumably the night before last." Was it my imagination, or did Mr. Atkins turn slightly pale? "Tuesday night," he muttered. After a brief silence lie turned to us, and withdrawing his eyes from the corpse with obvious difficulty, said, in a hearty, matter-of-fact voice: "Gentlemen. I regret that I have to leave you. I should like to hear more of this affair, but I suppose if you do discover anything you will keep it pretty close?" "You bet we'll try to," the coroner assured him. After shaking us all most cordially by the hand, Mr. Atkins departed, and was escorted downstairs by the detective, whose excessive politeness seemed to me very suspicious. "Was he going to put a sleuth on the young man's tracks?" I wondered. The air in the room was heavy with the odor of death, so I stepped out on the landing. The workmen were all talking in low tones. "I know that Frenchman did it; I know it," I overheard one of them say. Much excited by these words, I was Just going to ask who the Frenchman was, and why he should be suspected, when Mr. Merritt stepped out of the elevator and rang the bell of the opposite apartment. Miss Derwcnt had evidently not been far off, for the door was opened almost Immediately, and a tall, slight young figure stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a quiet traveling suit and a thick brown veil pulled down over her face rendered her features. In the dim light of the landing, completely invisible. "Miss Derwent?" inquired Mr. Merritt. She bowed. "You have, no doubt, been told." he continued, "that a very serious acident has occurred in this building." She Inclined her head slowly. "As we have been unable to identify the corpse" here the detective paused, but Ehe gave no sign and he went on "we are asking everyone in the house to take a look at it' Instead of answering, the girl went back Into the apartment, but returned in a minute, carrying a handbag. Stepping out on to the landing she shut and locked the door behind her with apparent composure. As she turned to follow the detective fhe asked, in a low but distinct voice: "How did this accident occur?" "That we have not yet been able to ascertain," he replied, leading her to the room where the dead body lay. I hastily stepped back and resumed my former position at the foot of the eorppe. As the girl crossed the threshold shey hesitated a moment, then walked steadily In "Miss May Derwent, I believe?" the coroner Inquired, In his suavest tones. Again she bowed assent. "Please look at this man and tell me if you have ever seen him before." Before replying, the girl slowly lifted her veil and revealed to my astonished eyes, not only a face of very unusual beauty, but and this is what. I found Inexplicable coils of golden hair! Where were the raven locks I had seen only a few hours before? Had I dreamed them? But no. my memory was too clear on this point. My surprise was so great that I am afraid I showed it. for I caught Mr. Merritt looking at me with one of his enigmatical smiles. Miss Derwent was excessively pale, with heavy black rings under licr eyes, but otherwise she seemed perfectly composed. She looked at the corpse a moment, then turning towards the coroner, said, in a clear, steady voice: "1 do not know the man."

BT ELIZABETH KENT

Copyright, 1902, by O. P. Putnam's Son t "Have ycu ever seen him before?" "No." she answered, quietly. "Miss Derwent, pardon my quetloning you still further, but 1 have been told that a gentleman closely resembling the deceased called on you on Tuesday evening. Now, do you tee any resemblance between the two?" A burning blush overspread the girl s race, and then she grew so ghastly pale that I moved to her side, fearing she would ialL "Mr. Coroner, can't the rest of the questions you have to ask Miss Ierwent be put to her somewhere el?e?" I suggested. "The atmosphere here Is Intolerable." "Certainly," he replied, with unexpected mildness. I drew the young lady's unresisting hand through my arm and supported her Into the next room. She was trembling so violently that she would have fallen If I had not done so, and I could see that it was only by the greatest self-control that she kept any semblance of composure. "Now," resumed the coroner, "if you feci well enoußh. will you kindly answer my last question?" "The gentleman who called on me on . Tuesday does not resemble the dead man, except in so far that they both have black, pointed beards." "At what time did your frlei:d leave you on Tuesday evening?" was the next question asked. "I cannot see why the private affairs of my visitors or myself should be pried into." she replied haughtily. "I decline to an sw?r." "My dear young lady." here interposed Mr. Merritt, "you have, of course, every right not to answer any question that you think likely to incriminate you. but." he continued, with a smile, "it is hardly possible that anything could do that. . On tho other hand, it is cur duty to try and sift this matter to the bottom. You certainiy will agree with the necessity of It when I tell you that this man has been murdered!" "Murdered!" the girl repeated, as If dazed. "Oh, no!" "I regret to say that there is absolutely no doubt of It. Now, one of the elevator boys has identified the corpse as that of the gentleman who called on you the day before yesterday. I do not doubt that he was mistaken In fact, I am sure of it; but as no one saw your friend leave the building It becomes Incumbent on us to make sure that he did so. It will save a great deal of trouble to us, and perhaps to yourself, if you will tell us the gentleman's name and at what hour he left here." She had covered her face with her hands, but now dropped thm, and lifting her head, fared us with an air of sudden resolution. "Gentlemen." she began, then hesitated and looked at us each in turn, "you can readily imagine that it will be a terrible thing for me if my name should in any way, however Indirectly, be connected with this tragedy. But 1 sse that it Is useless to refuse to answer your questions. It will only make you believe that I havo

something to conceal. I can but ask you, you on whom I have no claim, to shield from publicity a girl who has put herself in a terribly false position." "Miss Derwent, I think I can assure you that ws will do everything in our power to help you. Nothing you shall say here, shall be heard beyond these walls unless the cause of justice demands it," The coroner spoke with considerable warmth. Evidently, Miss May's charms had not been without their effsct on him. "Very well, then." said the girl. "I wilt answer your questions. What do you want to know?" "In the first place, please tell us how you came to spend two nights In an unoccupied apartment?" "I suppose you already know," she answered, a trifle bitterly, "that I arrived here unexpectedly on Tuesday afternoon?" The coroner made a motion of assent. "I had reached the city earlier in the day, and had meant to catch the 6 o'clock train to Bar Harbor. As I had several errands to do. I sent my maid ahead to the Grand Central Depot with orders to engage a stateroom and check my luggage. I forgot to notice how the time was passing till I caught sight of a clock In Madison Square f)0lntlng to eight minutes to 5. I Jumped nto a hansom, but got to the station just In time to see the train steam away, with my maid hanging distractedly out of a window." She paused a moment. "A gentleman happened to bo with me," she continued, with downcast eyes, "so we consulted together as to what I had better do. On looking up the trains I found that I could not get back to my mother's country place till 9 o'clock that evening, and then should have to leave home again at a frightfully early hour so as to catch the morning train to Bar Harbor. Otherwise I should be obliged to wait over till the following afternoon and take a long night Journey by myself, which I knew my mother would not wish me to do. Altogether, it seemed so much simpler to remain in town, If I could only find a place to go to. Suddenly, our apartment occurred to me. Of course I knew that the world would not approve of my staying here alone; nevertheless, I decided to do so." "You went out again, very soon after your arrival, did you not?" asked the coroner. "Yes." the answered, "as there was rr way of getting any food here, my friend" (she hesitated slightly over the last word) "had little difficulty in persuading me to dine with him at a quiet restaurant In the neighborhood." "Did the gentleman return to the Rosemere after dinner?" "Yes." "And c'id he leave you then?" Miss Derwent hesitated a moment, then, throwing her head back, she answered proudly: "No!" But a deep crimson again suffused her cheek, and she .added almost apologetically: "It was all so unconventional that I did not see why I should draw the line at his spending the evening with me. He was a very Intimate friend." "Why do ycu use the past tenser asked Mr. Merritt. She cast a little frightened glance in his direction, evidently startled at being caught up so quickly: "We wo had a very serious disagreement," she murmured.' "Was the disagreement so serious as to put an end to your friendship?" inquired the detective. "Yes," she replied curtly, while ar angry light came into her eyes. t "At what time did the gentleman leav you?" resumed the coroner. "It was very late after IL I think." "And you have not seen him again sine then?" "Certainly not." she replied. "Why did you not carry out your first intention of leaving the city on the following morning?" The girl .appeared slightly embarrassed as she answered: "I did not feel like paying 1sits Just at the moment, and besides I had not enough money to carry me as far as Bar Harbor. My maid had most of my money, and I was no longer willing to borrow from my visitor, as 1 had Intended, doing." "Excuse my questioning you still further said the coroner, with a glance of admiration at the beautiful girl, who was fretting under the examination, "but why, then, didn't you return to your homer "I did not wish to do so." Then, catching Mr. Merritt's eye. she added: "I had been a good deal upset by by what had occurred the night before and felt the need of a day to myself. Besides, I had om shopping to do, and thought this a good, opportunity to do it. I am going home this morning." "Thank you. Miss Derwent." exclaimed the coroner, heartily: "your explanations are perfectly satisfactory. Only you havo forgotten to tell us the gentleman's name." "Why need you know his name?" she demanded, passionately, "you will soon find out who this unknown man is. There must be hundreds of people in this city who knew him. Why should I tell you the name of my visitor? I refuse to do so." "Miss Derwent is quit right." interposed the detective, with unexpected decision: "once convinced that the dead man and her friend are not identical and the latter's name ceases to be of any importance to us." "Quite so, quite so," the coroner rather grudgingly assented. "Can 1 go now?" she inquired. "Certainly." said the coroner, cordially, "Good day, miss." I was just going to offer myself as n escort when Mr. Merritt steppe quickly forward and posensed himself of the younj lady's bag. With a distant bow, that included Impartially the coroner and myself. Miss Derwent left the room. "Remember Mrs. Atkins." the dtectlva murmured as he prepared to follow her. I nodded a curt assent. My brain was In a whirl. What was I to believe? This be tutlful. quecnllke creature seemed lncapabla of deceit, and yet who were the two people I had so lately seen In her apartment? Why had no mention been made of them? No matter: I felt my belief In the younggirl's innocence and goodness rise superior to mere facts, and then and thfre vowed to become h-r champion hould he ever need one, which I very much feared might. I was vaguely annoyed that the detective n hould have Insisted on ecortln5 her. Ifad he a motive for this. I wondervd. or had he simply e uccumbtd to her fascination, like the rest of us? At any rate. didn't like it. and I rang Mrs. Atklua'o bell In considerable ill humor. ' fTo Be Continued To-morrow